I looked on as the beautiful doctor delivered the delicate news. Her long blond hair floated over her crisp white coat, as she quietly spoke to the pregnant woman sitting on the examination table in her paper white gown. I watched as the mother’s face fell into her hands and the sound of spattering tears rose above the undercurrent of her sobs.

Cherish them elicits an internal boomerang of a polite smile with fuck you eyes. Yes, of course I cherish my children. They are laced into the DNA of my everything. And yes, of course I know (I know) I will miss these times. But my everything is about ready to bottom out if someone doesn’t...

You are still my kittens and fixing the hurt and holding your pain is done wrapped in my arms with whispers of dreams and stars. But I’m already thinking about how to prepare you for the days when the world does not see all of your perfection and the hurt is greater than you are willing to share and your pain is screamed in silence.

It was a very big deal and she was very scared. There was no amount of bribery through friend making, fun having, adventures awaiting or snack partaking that was going to make it better. So, I met her where she was at.

My Dad is a feminist. Now, don’t go telling him I called him that on the inter-webs. We’ve never officially talked about me labeling him one of my two favorite F words. But. Growing up we did lots of talking about how I can do anything that a boy can do. And there was always the slight hint that I might be able to do it even better.